PDARPG MISC: cruel justice - 1164 words

#4 - Test Subject

Show your character as a test subject in the lab. Your piece must include your character in a laboratory setting and participating in experiments– or refusing to.

 

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It tried to pace around the glass-walled enclosure. The clear cage was too small to move around in comfortably.

 

"Let me out," the child demanded, its voice weak and shaky. The words it spoke were played back through a speaker on the other side of the bulletproof glass. All the screams and wailing in every syllable provoked a reaction. Each whisper and hex. Every groan and crooked moan. A murmur traveled across the faceless figures in a wave. A burst of sick excitement.

 

"Let me out," the grey creature cried out, its command muffled by the transparent barrier. Another murmur traveled along the featureless crowd in white. The taur pressed four out of its six palms on the glass, and in turn, the flock of humanoid-shaped vulture-things moved away.

 

They weren't going to. Any requests for freedom were futile.

 

The child had been stripped of its belongings. All it had left. A plain table held everything that protected the being from worlds, like those possessions were some kind of trophies. The cosmic traveler could see each and every one of them from its prison cell. The reindeer antlers, partially wrapped in worn indigo, felt more hollow than they sounded. The limp pelts and artificially attached paws of bruins wailed in the entity's multiple ears like the biting winds of Winter. The small jars of fangs and molars stood still and silent, denying the comfort they used to provide to their lord so lost.

 

One of those four, darkened hands curled into a fist in irregular twitches. Out of desperation, its side hit the glass. Another hand flexed, yet stayed unmoving in its place. The hostile gesture drew the light-coated harpies further away.

 

The two, hollow voids on the vagrant's pale mask emptied of substance, as it closed its weary eyes. Its chin lowered, the veiled cranium leaning towards the see-through boundary. The taur-thing's horns hit the glass. Their frontal surface, like whittled from chipped charcoal, scraped the crystalline facet with a soft screech.

 

This felt like the final stop. The end of the line.

 

Whatever second chance the dark-scarred vagabond had been blessed with, it had wasted. All of it, just being afraid. Terrified of the things that might or might not come back to haunt its labyrinthine psyche. All the things it had left behind. The actions it executed. What it made others do.

 

No matter how agonizing, this was right. This was what it deserved for all that pain.

 

Something that sounded like an explosion made its way through the air in violent ripples. The room's door wailed and screamed on its hinges as it burst open. What once had been a door handle, was no more.

 

The torturers scattered like carrion crows from a roadkill.

 

"Eurgh," an annoyed groan laid itself on top of the quiet chaos of multiplying murmurs. The bright-colored mane of the creature flickered, the fire it had fed quickly dying down. Arcus let out an electric-rimmed huff as she entered the room. "I hate people."

 

"Look, I appreciate your help with directions and all..." Another voice joined the scene. A tall humanoid followed the wyfex, gesturing with his hands. "...but you didn't have to shoot the lock."

 

"Yes I did," Arcus snapped at Caspian, and out of learned instinct swung her shotgun towards the Athos. The man attempted to dodge, but the barrel followed his movement relentlessly.

"Je-sus, careful where you point that thing!"

 

A pleased sneer-like sound escaped from the Flamemane's sealed throat. She holstered her firearm on the leather belt around her upper torso, and flung the weapon around to let it rest against her back. The wyfex halted. She looked at the taur, then at Caspian - and repeated the suspicious gesture, before she turned back to the shifter. "You sure this is the right guy? Looks like bad news to me."

 

Caspian rolled his eyes. "Bad news or not, I'm not leaving anyone in here," he sighed. The man walked over to the glass-walled cubicle. There was a clear separation point for its exit, and it held a crude handle. The eternal broke off the angled piece of metal, and opened the door.

 

Arcus tilted her head. Something in her chest chirped curiously. "You could've just told me to not waste shells."

Caspian chuckled. His tone sported a vexed edge. "You were busy going in guns blazing."

 

The lost child hesitated, but finally, stepped out of the glass coop. It was nervous. The hands it brought together, twisting and pulling them repeatedly, tattled such in a soundless voice, clear as crystal. That grey-and-black body flinched involuntarily, when the cyan-accented man approached it. He carried the thing's belongings in his arms.

 

"Are these yours?"

 

The cosmic wanderer froze. It wasn't sure if it had ever experienced such a tone of voice before. Friendliness wasn't something it had heard. At least, not aimed towards itself.

 

"...yes," the child carefully spoke after a brief, impenetrable silence. Caspian inspected the objects he carried. Lost in thought, the eternal stuck his forked tongue slightly out from between his sharp teeth, trying to decide which article to offer first.

 

He went with the small jars, filled with teeth. While being gingerly collected into one hand, they chinked against each other. The Athos handed the items to their owner, and in turn, the child held out a pair of its hands. It felt the weight of the containers on its palms, before slipping them around its lowest wrists.

 

The larger bear pelt, duller in color than the other one, the being set on its lower back. It barely had the time to turn back to the shifter, before Caspian already draped the second pelt over its shoulders. Must've gone there. Felt obvious enough.

 

The child petrified - from what exactly, it wasn't quite sure. This neon-thing was already standing too close for comfort - and now it had the audacity to help, as though aiding someone who hadn't broken every single unspoken rule of the universe. Even stood taller than the taur. Preposterous.

 

Caspian tilted his head when the grey creature stopped moving. He watched it with worry for a few seconds, before handing the remaining pair of reindeer antlers to it. This seemed to drag it out of whatever state it was in, as it accepted them. Two of its upmost hands carefully set the rack around their master's neck.

 

"...thank you," the masked traveler said softly. Almost cautiously. There had been a very long time between this and the previous thankful gesture it had done.

 

"You're hopeless," Arcus hissed from the doorway. "But I guess that comes with the territory."

"Oi!" Caspian spit back, turning to the wyfex. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"The likes of you are always so overly protective."

 

The shifter's eyes narrowed. "Likes of me? Like, the Athos?"

 

The wyfex groaned. "By Reuel's stubby tail - that's such an idiotic name for a race."

 

Caspian couldn't help his jaw falling ajar. "It's not like I named it! Jeez..."